


Spice and Everything Nice

by maddaddam



Series: Jeanmarco Week 2016 [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Almost smut, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, M/M, fluff and makeouts, idk it's mostly just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 17:26:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8336461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddaddam/pseuds/maddaddam
Summary: The skirt was supposed to be one time thing. Thank God it didn't stay that way.
based off this wonderful doodle!





	

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't even smut and I was still awkward as heck writing it the things I do for you guys.

The skirt was supposed to be a one time thing. 

Actually, the skirt wasn’t even supposed to happen. Marco never intended to leave home in his usual jeans and return wearing a skirt two sizes too small. He certainly never intended to enjoy the feeling of the silky fabric on his skin, and he _definitely_ didn’t account for Jean’s reaction to the change in costume. 

The only reason the skirt even ended up in their shared apartment to begin with was because Marco lost a bet. But not just any bet, a bet with Krista Lenz. Admittedly, their gamble had started as a joke. The library they both worked at had built up quite the reputation for scandalous affairs, largely between the library’s own employees. Most common among these affairs was sex in the restricted archives, though Marco and Krista had never understood why. Nevertheless, Marco had bet that their two newest co-workers, Sasha and Connie, would sneak away to the designated room two months after starting at the library. Krista had bet one month. Needless to say, Marco had underestimated the insatiable thirst of the two new recruits. 

So the bet was lost. The skirt became Marco’s by default because after wearing it once, Krista decided to let him keep it. He was unsure if it was because she just didn’t want the damn thing back or if she secretly enjoyed the view, but it was his now and there wasn’t much he could do about it. Except maybe wear it around the house once or twice...or anytime Jean wasn’t home...or anytime Jean asked him to when he _was_ there. 

Okay, so there was something he could do. He could easily just give the skirt to charity or tell Jean that he really didn’t want to wear it, but the fact of the matter was that Marco really enjoyed wearing the thing. Almost as much as Jean enjoyed seeing him in it. So all in all, he wasn’t exactly surprised when Jean stopped him mid-makeout session to ask him about it. 

“What?” he’s breathless, they both are. The only difference being that Jean is controlling it much better, if the way he’s biting his lip seductively is anything to go by. Marco likes him even more for it. 

“Put it on for me?” Jean asks again, one hand rubbing up Marco’s thigh, the other combing through silky hair. 

“You’ll have to get off me,” Marco warns. Begrudgingly, Jean acquiesces. Not without biting playfully on his boyfriend’s collarbone, though. Distantly, Marco wishes he could stay like this forever; with Jean’s hand in his hair, teeth on his neck, and thumb rubbing tiny patterns into the jut of his hip bone. But he’s got a request to comply with and after delivering a dramatic huff and with a good deal of shuffling, Marco stands from the couch. 

He leans down to whisper in Jean’s ear, “I’ll be back,” before sauntering into the bedroom. And if his hips sway more than strictly necessary on the way over, Jean’s not complaining about it. 

The skirt is hidden in the deep recesses of their shared closet and it takes Marco longer than he anticipated to find it. He vaguely remembers shoving it into a shoebox near the back, so he reaches for the stack of cardboard containers behind a pile of shoes. Only once he’s gone through half of the boxes - each predictably filled with various footwear and tissue paper - does he remember the skirt’s true location. 

“Crap,” he breathes, straightening up and reaching for the shelf above his head. His fingers come in contact with a plastic bag which is immediately pulled down and examined. In it lies the skirt, still nicely folded, and another few articles of clothing that he has no idea how he didn’t remember purchasing. 

Looking back at the bedroom door to make sure Jean isn’t sneaking a preview, Marco pulls off his jeans. He lets them fall to the floor, not caring for once where they land or if they’ll get dirty from laying around on the grimy carpet. The skirt quickly takes it’s place on his legs and Marco sighs in relief. There’s something nice about the non-constrictive nature of the fabric, and he twirls around a few times to really revel in it. Once satisfied, Marco reaches for the previously abandoned plastic bag and carries it to the bed, dumping the contents out onto the comforter. 

“Babe?” Jean calls, knocking on the door. Marco curses under his breath; he’s taking too long. Without really looking to make sure everything is in order, he reaches down to the pile of clothes on the bed, grabs a pair of socks, and pulls them on over his bare feet. _Ah. Now I remember why I got these socks_. 

Just before Marco rushes out the door, he is reminded of the second pair of socks he had purchased a few months ago. And, of course, the second skirt. Quickly and quietly, Marco runs back to the bed, grabs a handful of peach colored cotton, and sprints for the living room. He breathes a sigh of relief when he finds that Jean is still sitting patiently on the couch. 

“Sorry, couldn’t find the darned thing,” he says, walking back into the room with unsure feet. He’s never really been much of an exhibitionist, and Jean’s watchful gaze taking in every inch of his body is a bit difficult to handle. Especially when his amber eyes stay fixated on the skin of Marco’s legs just below his skirt and just above the knee-high socks he pulled on without a second thought. “Is it okay?” He asks timidly. Jean’s eyes don’t leave the scant few inches of exposed skin and freckles and Marco feels himself flush bright red at his boyfriend’s confidence. 

“More than okay,” Jean breathes, leaning back on the couch and flicking his eyes up to meet Marco’s for the first time since he returned from the bedroom. Marco can’t help but notice the blatant lust and affection hiding behind amber irises and doesn’t hesitate before walking to the couch and sitting down next to his boyfriend. He even makes sure to tuck his legs to the side so Jean can really take them in. If they’re gonna play this game, might as well milk it for all it’s worth. 

Suddenly, Jean’s self control snaps, and Marco finds a pair of lips pressing insistently against his own. They’re warm and soft and everything else Marco loves about Jean, so he doesn’t hesitate before returning the kiss and wrapping his arms around the other man’s neck. Jean’s hands come up in retaliation, brushing along his cheeks before settling on his jaw, pressing and stroking until Marco opens his mouth to let Jean in deeper. It’s a welcome addition to the kiss, but Marco wants even more. 

“Jean,” he murmurs against his boyrfriend’s lips. Jean merely hums to indicate that he heard the plea for attention and moves to suck light bruises into the smooth skin of Marco’s neck. “ _Jean_.” 

“Mmmwhat,” he says, biting down again on Marco’s collarbone. Marco wants to slap him for it. _That’s not fair! You can’t use my weaknesses against me!_ He thinks, though he makes no move to stop the other man. 

“I, uh, got something for you,” he says, reaching for the fabric beside him and holding it out to Jean. His hands shake as he goes, but whether that’s from excitement, fear, or Jean’s insistent lips on his neck, he doesn’t know. With a parting nip to the juncture of Marco’s neck and shoulder, Jean leans away to look down at the gift in his boyfriend’s hands. Curious, he picks up the three articles of clothing, eyebrows shooting up once he sees what he holds in his hands. “You didn’t,” he says. 

“I kinda did?” Marco shrugs nervously, suddenly terrified that Jean will find his present either insulting or bizarre. God, he hopes he doesn’t. When Jean says nothing, just stares down at the fabric bunched in his hands, Marco panics. “I-I mean you just liked the skirt on me so much so I thought maybe I’d get another one in case you ever wanted to try it out but if that’s not your thing I completely understand and you don’t have to if you don’t want to it’s kinda stupid I don’t even know if it’s your colo-” 

Suddenly, and without changing the neutral expression on his face, Jean stands from the couch and holds out the skirt in front of him. Marco holds his breath as his boyfriend seems to examine the thing with the same judgemental glare he regards everything with. If Marco didn’t know him any better, he’d think that Jean was mad or disgusted by the skirt. But he knows it’s just Jean’s usual habit of scowling while he considers his options. 

“I think it’s my color,” Jean says, hands moving to the catch of his pants at lightening speed and toying with the button. Just as suddenly as he stood up, Jean’s back on the couch again, only this time he’s wearing a skirt instead of pants and Marco is infinitely less panicked. 

“O-oh. Good,” he stutters when Jean moves to straddle his hips, skirt brushing against the skin of his legs. “G-glad you like it.” 

“Mmm, yeah,” Jean says, pulling Marco’s face towards him again and nibbling on his bottom lip gently before pulling back and looking at the taller man, eyes sparkling mischievously in a way that makes Marco’s stomach drop faster than the bass in one of those EDM songs Jean likes listening to when he thinks Marco isn’t around. 

“Y’know I was thinking about spicing it up a bit today anyway,” Jean says suddenly, snapping Marco’s attention away from the hungry look in his eyes as he begins sliding his hands down Marco’s chest with reverence. 

“Well,” Marco smiles, “I think that can be arranged.” 

Jean leans in until their lips are almost brushing, chests almost touching, hearts almost beating in time with each other. Closing the gap, he wraps his arms around Marco’s neck, presses their lips together softly and whispers a final word. 

“Good.”


End file.
